


We are all slaves of vanity

by Kings_of_Gotham



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Crozier-centric, M/M, Sensual Play, introspective fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kings_of_Gotham/pseuds/Kings_of_Gotham
Summary: "Francis... look at me."James Fitzjames was a man made of vanity and he always pretended to be at the center of my attention and my sight.In response, I grabbed the glass in front of me, ignoring him. Only alcohol would distract me and give a slight relief from all thoughts, terrible presentiments and regrets. Only the umpteenth glass would have prevented me from contemplating the God of Vanity.





	We are all slaves of vanity

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is but I really liked writing Francis' thoughts!

"Francis... look at me."

_James Fitzjames was a man made of vanity and he always pretended to be at the center of my attention and my sight._

In response, I grabbed the glass in front of me, ignoring him. Only alcohol would distract me and give a slight relief from all thoughts, terrible presentiments and regrets. Only the umpteenth glass would have prevented me from contemplating the God of Vanity.

"Francis..."

The white double-breasted was opened and revealed a dry and outlined body, scratched by some scars here and there. Scars that jarred with those long and always in order dark hair, with those soft lips.

James Fitzjames was vain but not coward, not a weak soul. Indeed... during those dark days after Franklin's death he become the only hope for men, for the mission, for me.

_I should have known right away that I would not be able to keep him away..._

"Fran--"  
"I'm watching you, James."

I confessed, sipping my whiskey.

He came up with a light step, touching my glass with the tip of his forefinger and middle finger. He traced the edge slowly and I could not understand why such a banal gesture could be so erotic.

I swallowed hard and stared into his dark eyes.

He licked his lips and, sliding two fingers inside the glass, dipped the tip in my whiskey.

Before I could protest James' fingers had already left my glass and had been brought to his greedy mouth. He wet, in an obscenely sensual way, his lips with coppery drops - my only source of consolation since I had embarked on this expedition.

"You should stop drinking like that, Francis."

My name, pronounced by those moist and inviting lips, seemed decidedly more beautiful.

I felt a shiver down my spine but I tried in every way to impose myself a behavior.

"Francis..."  
"Please..."

_What was I praying for exactly? I was not so drunk yet, but my voice was different than usual..._

I saw James get even closer to me, until he sat astride my knees.

Then, he put his hand on mine and began to drink slowly from my glass. The position and the situation weren't entirely appropriate and a trickle of whiskey dripped from one side of his mouth.

When he removed the glass I was already there to clean it with my lips...

He winced at the contact, as if he had not expected a reaction from me.

_What anger!_

I kept kissing the alcohol from his neck, making him tremble with every kiss and when I reached his lips, eager to even get the whiskey that was there, he touched the hair on the back of my neck and closed his eyes.

_We are all slaves of vanity._


End file.
